


Ian and Mickey's Merry Band of Gays

by atthebarricade



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon-typical swearing, M/M, Mickey is in love, season 5, so is Ian, some homophobic slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atthebarricade/pseuds/atthebarricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m serious, Mick. You need friends. The only people you see on a daily basis are me, a bunch of hookers, and a handful of alcoholics. You need healthier company.”</p><p>Mickey let out a disbelieving, nearly sarcastic laugh. “And you think I need to find that company at a gay club?”</p><p>Or:</p><p>How Ian and Mickey start their friend group of hot gays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ian and Mickey's Merry Band of Gays

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. I just had to write about the fact that Ian and Mickey are domestic enough to have a group of friends to call on whenever they need to get their occasional revenge on a homophobic pastor. Can you believe these two idiots?  
> Unbeta'd, sorry! Enjoy :)

“You gotta be kidding me. Are you fucking with me? You’re joking.”

Ian shook his head, sitting up in bed and shifting to get a better look at Mickey. “I’m serious, Mick. You need friends. The only people you see on a daily basis are me, a bunch of hookers, and a handful of alcoholics. You need healthier company.”

Mickey let out a disbelieving, nearly sarcastic laugh. “And you think I need to find that company at a _gay club?_ ”

Ian shrugged, looking defensive. “They gay club where _I_  work. This way, you won’t have to worry about them being homophobic, and I know which guys are worthwhile. It’ll be easy to find some decent people.”

“You’re totally right, Ian,” Mickey drawled. “Easy peasy for me to just become buddies with a couple of twinks that also shake their asses for a bunch of old dudes at some sleazy club. We’ll talk about Lady Gaga, or maybe dick-sucking technique over margaritas or some shit. Sounds like a fucking ball.”

Ian sighed. “Do you even listen to Lady Gaga?”

“Do I—no, fuck no—of course I don’t-” Mickey spluttered, turning a light shade of pink. “Mandy mentioned her once. I know it’s a gay guy thing, okay?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Mickey. If you want to stay home and like, play video games or some shit between your shifts as a pimp, fine. I’m gonna go out and try and be sociable for once.” With that, he got to his feet and stalked away, shoulders raised haughtily as he wrenched the fridge open and began rifling around.

Mickey rolled his eyes at his drama queen boyfriend before getting to his feet and making his way over to Ian. “Calm down, Gallagher, if you really want me to I’ll try and play nice with your booty shorts gang. But I’m not gonna do any gay shit, like— like go shopping or something. I’m not doing that. I got you to do that shit for me exactly  so that I don’t have to. Got it?”

Ian turned to face him, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re not going shopping, Mick. And there’s these three guys that mentioned getting drinks one night, _and_ they _all_ have boyfriends,”  he added, seeing the look that crossed Mickey’s face, “so I’ll just let them know you’re gonna tag along. It’ll go great, Mick, I promise.”

“Whatever,” Mickey said, stepping away from the fridge. “Speaking of my shifts as a pimp, I gotta go. Kev fucking sucks at bringing in customers, and it’s prime time for dick sucking. I’ll see you later.”

Ian nodded, closing the fridge and stepping closer in order to kiss Mickey goodbye.

“That’s my guy, going out and working hard to bring home the bread,” Ian called after him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey replied. “And don’t bother with the jelly, Svetlana used the rest of the bread this morning.”

He heard Ian groan just as the door swung shut behind him.

-

Mickey felt his phone vibrate just as he was pounding the shit out of some guy for talking shit about Svetlana and her baby bump and refusing to let her suck his dick, like his dick deserved some kind of special fucking treatment. No one texted him expect Ian and Mandy, or one of the Gallaghers if it was something important. He gave the douchebag one last little kick before hauling him to his feet and pinning him to the brick exterior of the Alibi.

“Listen, buddy,” he snarled, “if you’re desperate enough to come to a fuckin’ whorehouse to get jerked off, you can deign to get it jerked by a pregnant lady. You know how stressful that shit is? You try carrying a fucking baby in you for nine months before you run your fucking mouth about how it’s a turnoff. My whores aren’t good enough for you, you can fucking leave, asshole.”

As soon as Mickey’s grip loosened the guy took off like a rocket, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. Mickey sighed loudly and dug around in his pocket for his phone. Just as he expected, it was Ian.

_Redhouse. 8 o’clock. Be there :)_

Mickey tried to remember if he’d ever been to the Redhouse. It didn’t _sound_ like a gay bar, unless it was for dudes with redhead fetishes, in which case Ian would be welcomed with open arms. Jesus.

Still, he knew Ian really wanted him to meet his twink friends, and Mickey really didn’t want to do anything to upset Ian now that he was finally getting out of his funk. (And—not that he’d ever admit it—he kind of liked the thought of going out with Ian and doing couple stuff. Nothing too gay, though. Baby steps). He hit reply and debated what to say. He didn’t want to sound too eager, but he also didn’t want Ian to think this was some big chore for him. After a minute of contemplation, he went with _Yeah, alright. See u then_ and hit send without letting himself overthink it. He put his phone away and slipped back into the Alibi, ignoring the fond, almost motherly look Svetlana gave him and trudging back up the stairs.

“Is Evans trying to go for round two without paying? What the _fuck_ did I tell you last time you pulled this shit, Ev—”

-

Mickey showed up at the bar at 8:07, even though he could have been there with five minutes to spare, because he made it a point to never be on time to anything. He didn’t want to give these guys the wrong impression— he might be gay, but he wasn’t, like, _gay_. He just liked dudes.

He was relieved when he saw that the bar seemed to be pretty normal, definitely not anything flamboyant or faggy like he’d expected. It was cleaner than the Alibi, too, probably had more respectable patrons. Definitely no prostitutes working upstairs.

Ian caught sight of him from where he was sitting on the other side of the room and waved him over with a huge grin. Mickey took a deep breath, steeled himself, and slowly made his way over.

“Hey, Mick!” Ian greeted him, still beaming. “How was work?”

“Had to beat the shit out of more people than usual,” Mickey replied. “So good.”

Ian laughed and turned to face the three guys sitting across from them. His hand landed on Mickey’s leg and instead of flinching away like he would have done three months ago, he moved so that their thighs were pressed together.

The three other people looked at Mickey apprehensively, and he looked them over. They were kind of like the bar, Mickey decided. Not too flamboyant, but clean enough. Then he decided that he was being ridiculous.

“Mickey, this is Neil—” he pointed at the Asian one, “—Patrick—” a white guy, “and—”

“Let me guess, Harris?” Mickey joked. Ian snorted and the other three both laughed a little nervously.

“Arthur,” the black one introduced himself. “We’ve heard a lot about you, man.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Not that much, cause you still showed up.”

The guys all laughed again. Mickey wasn’t aware he was making a joke.

“I’ll get you a beer,” Ian said, getting up and sliding across Mickey’s body to get out of the booth.

Suddenly alone with Ian’s friends, Mickey felt nervous and shifted in his seat, chastising himself. Why the fuck should he be nervous? They were just a few guys Ian was friendly with. Coworkers of Ian’s. Not his problem. He was just here for the alcohol, anyway.

Oh, fuck it. Ian was his boyfriend and Mickey wanted to make a good impression on his friends. Fuck, he was whipped.

“So you’re really a pimp, huh?” the white one asked curiously.

Mickey glanced back over, scanning his expression for any signs of disdain or maybe a little disgust. He found none.

“Yeah,” he said, turning his body so that he was directly facing them. “My wife’s a whore and her previous pimp wasn’t paying them enough, so I moved them to my friend’s bar and they all work in the upstairs floor now.”

“How’s business?” the Asian (Neil?) said conversationally.

Mickey raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Booming,” he replied.

“That’s good. My sister was a stripper for a while, got her through college. When her friends wanted to go abroad for spring break she dabbled a bit in prostitution for the extra cash.” Neil shrugged, taking a casual sip of whatever the fuck kind of wine he was drinking. It was white.

Mickey stared at him in shock, wondering if he had really just heard the words “dabbled in prostitution” like his sister was trying out different kinds of sex work as an extracurricular. He shook his head, relieved when Ian came back with two beers.

“You think that bartender’s gay?” Arthur asked, leaning back in the booth and craning his neck to get a better look. “He’s cute.”

“He has a Justin Bieber haircut,” Patrick scoffed. “And _you_ have a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” Arthur said with a grin.

“What?” Ian said, looking surprised. “Since when?”

“Since Tuesday,” Arthur replied.

Mickey watched the four of them interacting with ease and didn’t feel as out of place and he expected. Maybe it was the fact that he was out, or the reassuring hand Ian kept on his thigh, or just that these guys weren’t wearing glittery eyeshadow or tight booty shorts like Mickey had half-expected, but they weren’t all that bad and he didn’t feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Arthur was detailing the long, emotional end of his relationship and how he’d found out that his boyfriend had been squirreling money from Arthur throughout the whole relationship. Apparently the boyfriend was saving up to move to Seattle with the other guy he’d been fucking during his whole relationship with Arthur.

“Jesus,” Mickey said. “What a douchebag. You need me to rough him up?”

“Yeah?” Arthur replied, looking surprised. “You think you can get the money back, too?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Mickey replied.

“He’s brutal with a baseball bat,” Ian added. Mickey gave him a fond look.

“That’d be awesome, dude,” he said. “You need his address?”

Mickey pulled out his phone to write the address in his notes, but he didn’t miss the smug look Ian was giving Patrick and Neil. He looked almost… proud. Mickey ignored the warm feeling he got when he saw his expression and focused on listening to Arthur.

Once they were finished getting the right information, Neil drained the rest of his glass and got to his feet.

“I’m gonna go flirt with him and see if he’s gay or not,” he said. “If we’re good, I’ll send him your way.”

“Thanks, man,” Arthur said, clasping Neil on his shoulder. “Just don’t get him too invested in you.”

“No promises,” Neil returned with a grin, and all three of the other guys rolled their eyes. Neil sauntered off and hopped up on a barstool, leaving just four at their booth.

They sat quietly for a while, causing Mickey to desperately try and think of something to say.

 

“How was, uh, work?” he finally said, glancing at Ian. “Trip over any of your customer’s walkers?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “No, Mick,” he said exasperatedly.

“No one had to use their LifeAlert?”

“No.”

“Good shift, then.”

“The noon to seven shift is the best,” Patrick agreed. “The dads and grandpas are still having dinner with their families, so it’s mostly actual hot guys who probably don’t have kids at home doing algebra and thinking their father’s volunteering at the firehouse when they’re really getting lap dances from hot underage gingers.”

“Dude,” Arthur said, “just cause you’re out of the closet doesn’t mean you gotta drag your skeletons with you. We know you got daddy issues.”

Ian snickered and Mickey stiffened when he felt Ian’s hand moving further up his thigh. He shot him a dirty look but Ian just gave him _the eyes_ and Mickey couldn’t bring himself to dislodge it.

“Who’d you have to beat the crap out of today, Mick?” Ian asked, rubbing small circles on Mickey’s leg.

“Some fucker who thought his dick deserved better than a pregnant lady,” he said, and Ian looked scandalized.

“Svetlana? But Lana sucks dick better than any of the rest of your whores!”

“ _I know_ ,” Mickey replied, glad that Ian was taking his side. “The fuck did he want, a whore that was more innocent or some shit? I don’t know what it is with the customers lately, man, but they’re getting out of line. Evans tried to get off twice without paying for the second time.”

“ _Again_?” Ian said incredulously.

“Again!”

“What a fucking idiot. Who was he with? Did he slap her?”

“It was Nika, so she nearly ripped his balls off so that she could pass ’em to Lana and let her beat his face in with them. I almost let her.”

They carried on like this until he noticed that Patrick and Arthur—even Neil, who was apparently done flirting—were staring at them with knowing looks. They both stopped discussing the rub-n-tug and Mickey flushed red.

Neil opened his mouth and Mickey braced himself, waiting for the condescending comment about how cute they were and how sweet it was that they were so open about their relationship, even though they were talking about Mickey’s job as a pimp and weren’t even acting like a couple. That was how it had been ever since Mickey’s grand coming out at Yevgeny’s christening— instead of getting shit about it, people were going out of their way to show their acceptance by cooing every time Ian and Mickey so much as looked at each other. It was better than getting the shit beat out him in an alley, and it was starting to dying down like Ian said it would, but it was annoying as shit. No one did that with any of the straight couples.

But the comment never came, and all Neil said was, “You’re just as badass as Ian said. I’m intimidated by you, but like, in a good way. If I ever become a hooker, I want you to be my pimp.”

The other two made noises of agreement.

“You’re ruthless,” Patrick agreed.

“Wait!” Arthur demanded, suddenly remembering what Neil’s task had been. “He gay, or what?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, dude,” he said. “No dice.”

“Damn.”

Mickey felt a final weight lift off his chest and he allowed himself to relax a little. Ian squeezed his leg and they exchanged a small smile. He didn’t think these three were going to annoy the shit out of him any time soon, and they definitely weren’t  threat. Maybe— for Ian’s sake, of course—he could be play nice. He could be buddy-buddy with them for a night out every once in a while. Ian had put up with enough of his shit to earn that, at least.

He looked away from the group and wrestled with his instincts that tried to stop him from getting too close to Ian, from being too public with his affection. After half a minute of struggling with himself, he tried to shift in a casual way and wrapped an arm around Ian’s waist, picking up his glass at the same time and taking a large gulp of beer.

None of the three friends said a word, and the look on Ian’s face made it worth it.

-

Later that night, when Ian had curled around Mickey and he was trying to fall asleep, Ian kissed his neck softly. Mickey let out a hum in return and shifted so that he was facing Ian.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked for the millionth time that night.

“Yes, Ian, Jesus Christ,” Mickey replied. “Do you think I would have stayed the whole three fuckin’ hours we were there if I didn’t?”

Ian smiled, letting out a small sigh of contentment. “I told you.”

“What-fucking-ever,” Mickey said, rolling his eyes.

“Mickey has _friends_ ,” Ian said in a sing-song voice. “Mickey, we have shared, normal, mutual friends. You and me. With friends. That we get drinks with. Chat with. _Friends_.”

“You gonna start writing out the wedding invitations next or can I go to sleep?”

Ian chuckled. “I’m just glad, is all.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t mean I’m gonna join your merry band of twinks or anything,” he grumbled, burying his face in Ian’s neck. The redhead wrapped his arms around him and moved so that he could kiss the top of his head.

“Go to bed, Robin Hood,” Ian said fondly.

“I’m sorry, who’s the one in charge of the nicknames here?” Mickey mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Goodnight, Mickey.”

Mickey just grunted in return, but he knew that Ian could feel him smiling. The arms around him tightened, and he had no trouble dropping off to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking of starting a little series to write about their further interactions with these three. Maybe we'll see Mickey beat the crap out of Arthur's ex! If anyone has any ideas, leave them in the comments. Thanks for reading!


End file.
